


"Same, bro."

by imafriendlydalek



Series: A Holsom Tale of Love and Hockey [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Background Relationships, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hanukkah, Jewish Character, Justin "Ransom" Oluransi is a Delicate Coral Reef, M/M, Minor Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Minor Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Muslim Character, New Year's Eve, because they are bros who like to curse, brief incident of hockey-typical violence, brief mention of blood/needles (for medical testing), even if you are trying to avenge your love, possibly excessive use of the word fuck, set in Ransom and Holster's senior year, you really shouldn't punch people Adam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: Adam Birkholtz loved movies. Action movies were great, epic space operas better, comedies are fun, hockey movies = totally swawesome. But deep down, hidden under his hockey bro facade, he was a romantic at heart, and he could never get enough of a heart-warming romantic film. They’re like pizza: the more gooey cheese, the better.He’d long hoped that he might have something like that, someday: the kind of love that sweeps you off your feet, an epic tale of star-crossed lovers that pulls at your heartstrings and makes you want to just hug it and goawwwww.This is not that kind of story. This is a story of two guys stumbling into love the way others stumble into a door frame in the middle of the night: You fumble along for a while in the dark, then something comes and smacks you in the face and you’re standing there, rubbing your face, thinking “Oh, was that always there?”All they needed was to turn on the light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up right after the events of Buffalo Buffalo... You should probably read that first (I'll wait.). We'll be following these two giant idiots through their final year of college. There will be bad jokes, bros being bros in love, a bit of hockey (sometimes they play hockey), competitive dreidel, more bad jokes. And a bit of smut ;-)  
> Fair warning: there will be a few Coral Reef anxiety moments, and we're gonna be talking about safe sex/STI testing, which involves needles. Also fair warning: I am not an expert on these things. This is fiction! ::waves wand:: Also I am not Jewish, so I have no idea how dreidel works (we'll get there in Chapter 2 or 3). Feel free to come enlighten me!

Adam Birkholtz loved movies. Action movies were great, epic space operas better, comedies are fun, hockey movies = totally swawesome. But deep down, hidden under his hockey bro facade, he was a romantic at heart, and he could never get enough of a heart-warming romantic film. They’re like pizza: the more gooey cheese, the better.

He’d long hoped that he might have something like that, someday: the kind of love that sweeps you off your feet, an epic tale of star-crossed lovers that pulls at your heartstrings and makes you want to just hug it and go _awwwww_.

This is not that kind of story. This is a story of two guys stumbling into love the way others stumble into a door frame in the middle of the night: You fumble along for a while in the dark, then something comes and smacks you in the face and you’re standing there, rubbing your face, thinking “Oh, was that always there?”

All they needed was to turn on the light.

***

Ransom and Holster had devised a grand plan of low-key coming out to Bitty in the hopes of getting Bitty to open up to them about whatever was eating him. It was a great plan, concocted on their drive back to Samwell after Thanksgiving (just after they’d finally figured out that maybe they were more than just bros, and maybe just a little bit in love with each other). They had spreadsheets and everything.

Of course, as it goes with best laid plan of mice and men, as they say, their plan was summarily thrown out to the window two days later, when they got back to the Haus early from class and overheard one Eric R. Bittle talking on the phone to one Jack L. Zimmermann about what a great boyfriend he was.

Adam froze where he stood in the doorway. 

Ransom grabbed his arm and pulled him back to where he wouldn’t be seen if Bitty were to turn around. “We take this to the grave!” he hissed as he dragged Adam back outside as quietly as possible.

He was gaping, Adam realized as they stood outside looking toward the Haus, and clamped his mouth shut. 

Suddenly it felt so _wrong_ for them to go through with it, to tell Bitty about their relationship (if that was what they were calling it these days). Like, what he was dealing with was so major, with so much riding on Jack and so much for him to lose should their secret get out, it felt like them telling Bitty and the team would just be pouring salt on the wound. “Look at us, being together and things are easy and we can tell people, but you can’t have that.” It felt wrong.

One look at Ransom confirmed that Ransom thought the same.

“We can’t do that to Bits,” Ransom said, his tone sullen. 

Adam reached out to give his hand a squeeze, brushed a quick kiss over the back of it. “Come on, Rans, let’s get inside. It’s fucking freezing out here. We’ll figure something out. Until then, we’ll just keep the making out limited to the attic like we have been.”

“Probably better that way anyway,” Ransom conceded as he trudged after Adam back into the Haus. “Can’t really afford fines.”

They made as much noise as possible coming up the porch steps so that Bitty could not possibly be surprised by their arrival.

“Hey boys!” Bitty greeted with a cheerfulness they hadn’t seen from him in days. Well, at least now they knew why. “You’re back from class early. I’ve got a pie in the oven, should be done in about half an hour, unless y’all’re tired of pie after Thanksgiving?”

“Bitty, my friend. There are three things in life I will never be tired of: hockey, that scene in Love Actually with the posters, and your pie.”

Ransom glared over at Adam. “I see how it is, bro.”

Adam shot him a smile. “And your gorgeous grumpy face, of course, Ransypoo.”

Ransom pouted dramatically before pointedly turning his attention to Bitty. “Let us dump our rucksacks upstairs and we’ll be back down to help you with that pie, Bits.”

They made it halfway up the attic stairs before Ransom grabbed hold of Adam’s waist and pushed him against the wall, his body pressed close against Adam. His voice was a low growl as he asked, “So, you tired of me?”

It was quick and sudden and all the blood in Adam’s body was rushing south. He cocked his head ever so slightly and pulled out his best lopsided grin. 

“Not _yet_ ,” he said before surging up to catch Ransom’s lips in a kiss before he had a chance to respond. 

Ransom responded in kind, giving as good as he got, and their backpacks lay where they’d been dropped on the stairs as the two of them stumbled across the room, kissing, touching, shedding clothing.

“Fuck, Rans,” Adam breathed. He put his hands on Ransom’s chest, stopping him just before they reached the bed. “Hang on, buddy. I need to- we gotta- can we talk for a minute?”

It’s not that he wasn’t loving where this had been headed - he definitely was, as evidenced by the tightness in his pants. But it’d been almost a week and he needed to know. 

Ransom shrank back. “Yeah, sure man.”

“No, no, no, no, Rans, dude, that’s not- c’mere.” Adam reached out again, pulling Ransom close. He laid one arm around Ransom’s neck, used the other to stroke over the top of his head, pulling off his snapback and tossing it onto the desk. “Hey.”

Ransom looked up to meet his eyes. “Hey.”

Adam pressed a kiss to Ransom’s lips, soft and reassuring, then pulled back to look him in the eyes again. “I got you, buddy. You and me, Rans. Ransom and Holster. Holster and Ransom. I just want you to know - I need you to know. I’m all in, man. This, between you and me, this is _everything_.”

The smile that spread across Ransom’s face set off a wave of happiness that rolled through Adam, settling somewhere in his stomach.

“Same, bro.”

By the time they made it back downstairs, the pie was long gone.

***

It was harder than Justin had anticipated, hiding their relationship. They’d always been incredibly tactile with one another, to the point that there had probably been speculation about them before, but now that they actually _were_ more than just friends, it made every look, every touch, every finished sentence feel… different. 

Nothing had changed, but also everything had changed, and now neither seemed to know how to act around the other when their friends were around. Up in the attic, where it was just Justin and Adam, they still slotted around one another seamlessly, like two parts of one greater whole, the way they did on the ice (just with a whole hell of a lot less padding). But when the others were there, when they actually had to be conscious of their movements and actions and slips of tongue, it was so tough.

‘So this is what being closeted is like, huh,’ Justin thought as he caught himself watching Holster load eggs onto his plate at team breakfast and wanting to reach out to muss his hair. 

Instead, he leaned over to nudge Bitty with his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Bits,” he told a surprised-looking Bitty. “Whatever you’re going through right now, tell us or don’t, that’s your choice, but we’re here for you.”

“Th-thanks, Rans,” Bitty said, looking down to stab at his scrambled eggs. “I appreciate that. I, um, I hope you and Holster figured out… the thing that happened? He mentioned something before Thanksgiving.”

Justin bit his lip to keep from grinning like a damn fool as his gaze strayed to Holster again. “Yeah, we figured it out. We’re all good.”

“That’s- that’s great, Ransom. I, um, I just remembered I was supposed to meet someone for breakfast. Study group. Breakfast study group.”

Bitty’s chair fell as he scrambled to get up, clattering to the ground with a loud crash. The whole team - and most of the others in the dining hall - stopped to look up at the sound, and silence lingered as Bitty fled the dining hall.

“What did you do?” Lardo hissed.

“I- I don’t know! I was trying to be nice!”

“Dude, you broke Bits…” Holster said.

“I was trying to be nice!” Justin repeated as he buried his face in his hands.

“I think Bits has a secret that he is very carefully Not Telling Us.”

“Geez Lards, what gave that away?” Holster asked, his voice even.

“I think me and Holtzy might know something about what that secret is.” Justin looked up to see Holster glaring at him, but Lardo leaned back in her chair knowingly.

“Dude,” Holster objected.

“I think I might also know something. I think it might involve a former teammate of ours.” Lardo raised an eyebrow, looking between them as she spoke.

Holster leaned in conspiratorially. “I think you might be onto something. What do you think we should do?”

Lardo stroked her chin, which would have made more sense if she had facial hair. “I think we need to let him come to us when he’s ready. I bet it’ll be soon, though. Before winter break.”

“I bet you’re wrong,” Holster countered. “I bet it won’t be ‘til, like, Valentine’s Day.” 

“I’ll take that bet.”

***

Adam really should have learned by now not to bet against Lardo.

Things came to a head with Bitty over the week that followed, and that Sunday, they were all summoned for brunch at Jerry’s. Adam was jittery. They knew what was coming - or at least they hoped it would be what they thought - and they were glad Bitty and Jack were trusting them with this, and yet there was a tension in the air.

It’s weird how you can live in such proximity with people and yet they are still so far away.

There was Bitty, who’d been hiding away this huge secret for who knows how long (who’d waited almost a whole semester to come out to them, back in his frog year). There was Lardo, who may-or-may-not be knocking boots with Shitty. And then there was him and Ransom, who had casually added a whole new level to their friendship. (Except it wasn’t casual at all.)

It was easier just to chirp Ransom for not knowing about J-brizzle.

“Me and Jack are dating!” Bitty blurted out, a real smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

Adam let out a breath of relief. _Fucking finally._

To his left, Ransom hid behind his coffee cup.

***

Justin was happy for Jack and Bitty. Incredibly happy. So happy that he wanted to share in it, to blurt out “So are me and Holtzy!”

But that would be a dick move. They should let the two of them have their moment.

That resolve lasted about twenty seconds, when Shitty finally succumbed to Holster’s prodding for deets on his and Lardo’s _whatever_ and cried out “YES WE ARE DOING THE HORIZONTAL FOXTROT, OKAY?” with a pointed glare at the two of them, and Holster, giant softie that he was, slung an arm over Justin’s shoulder, pressed a kiss to his cheek and declared, “Ransom and I are exploring alternatives to heterosexual intercourse. With each other.”

“FIIIIIIIIIIIIINE! DOUBLE FINE!”

Lardo won the bet of _how_ it would happen - “while in pursuit of other conquests” - but it was Jack who had gotten the _when_ right - “not until senior year, sometime during fall semester.” The others had been expecting it sooner, apparently.

***

“So we’re like, officially a Thing now,” Adam said when they were back at the Haus, flopping onto his bed with a happy sigh. He tucked his hands behind his head and looked over to Ransom, who had just sat down at his desk.

Ransom glanced over and smiled, closed the textbook he’d just opened, and crossed the room. He crawled over Adam, who shifted to make a bit more room, and curled up around him.

“We’re like officially a Thing now.”

“Are we, like, telling people? I mean, Bits and Jack are keeping their thing quiet, but I don’t think either of us is getting drafted to the NHL any time soon, so it’s not like we have any big reason not to tell?”

Ransom pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Adam’s jaw, just where he liked it. Geez, how had Rans figured him out so quickly? 

“You don’t think we’re getting drafted?” Ransom asked, a chuckle in his voice.

“Weeeeeell, I haven’t gotten any calls, have you?” It was a rhetorical question, so he didn’t bother waiting for Ransom’s reply. “Yep, I’ve resolved myself to a life of corporate drudgery. Oh, the joys of studying econ.”

There was a brief pause before Ransom spoke. “Yeah, I don’t see why we shouldn’t tell people. I mean, maybe we don’t make a big announcement or anything, just kinda don’t hide it?” he said before returning to his neck-nuzzling.

Adam nodded, mostly to himself since Ransom was too focused on Adam’s neck to see it. “Yeah, that sounds good. Uh, what about, you know, families?”

Ransom chuckled, a warm sound that reverberated in his chest. It felt nice. “Honey, I think your family might be onto us.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you, Dracula,” Adam chirped, digging his fingers into the soft bit between Ransom’s ribs where he was particularly ticklish.

“Didn’t hear you complainin’ at the time!” Ransom protested, catching Adam’s hands in his, rolling them so he was sitting on Adam’s stomach.

Adam let himself go slack, rolling his hips ever so slightly. “Not complaining. Just pointing out that my pasty pale ass is particularly sensitive to markings, which are not conducive to keeping relations of a sexual nature covert.” He ran a finger under the hem of Ransom’s shirt, lifting it just high enough to expose a sliver of skin and rub his thumb over it. “Can’t all be as gorgeously dark as you.”

Ransom leaned down to kiss Adam, his lips firm against Adam’s, his tongue delving into to Adam’s mouth. “I happen to be quite fond of your ass,” he said when they finally broke away to catch their breath. “Pasty paleness and all.”

Adam ran his hands up Ransom’s thighs, appreciating the thick muscles of his legs. Hockey really was the sport of the gods. “I mean, it’s no Zimmermann ass, but…”

“I like yours better.” Ransom’s eyes met his before darting away, focusing on his fingers as he traced patterns on Adam’s chest. More quietly, he added, “And I should very much like to tap it one day. If that’s something you’d be into.”

Adam’s mind blanked. Words failed him as his imagination took over, feeding him mental images of Ransom working him open, Ransom fucking into him. Of him bending Ransom over the side of the bed and pressing into him. Yeah, that was definitely something he’d be into.

He realized he hadn’t replied yet when Ransom started to pull away. “Yes please,” he finally managed to get out. “Yes, I would like that.”

“You ever done that?”

“Yeah. I mean, with girls,” he added when Ransom’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “I, uh- you remember Kerry? Sophomore year?”

“The one with the eyebrow piercing?”

“No, that was Carrie. Kerry was the one with the red glasses. She, uh, she was really into that? But she said-” Adam cleared his throat and put on a serious tone, like the female version of Shitty giving one of his equality lectures, though it was a little tough to be serious with Ransom still sitting on him, running his hands distractingly over Adam’s chest. “‘Life is all about the give-and-take, Adam.’ And then she fucked me with a strap-on.”

Ransom blinked, his eyes dark. “Did you…” He started, stopped. Looked down at Adam’s chest, then up at him through his eyelashes, chewing his bottom lip. “How was it?”

Adam let a grin spread across his face. “Fucking awesome, once you kinda… open up to it. I’d be happy to show you, someday,” he added with a wink.

Ransom huffed before leaning down to brush a quick kiss over Adam’s lips. “Someday, yeah. But today I need to get this lab report done.”

Adam missed the warmth and the comforting weight on top of him immediately after Ransom climbed off his lap and took up his spot at his desk. He had some homework he needed to get cracking on as well, though he would have happily put it off for more snuggle time. But that was the difference between him and Ransom, he supposed - Justin was way more driven to succeed that Adam would ever been.

Hockey notwithstanding, of course.

***

They told the team at team breakfast after practice the next day. It was part of their duty as captains, to be open with their team, to trust their team with this information like their team trusted them as leaders. Plus they didn’t want to hide anything.

And because they had the greatest team in the world, everyone took the news without blinking an eye. Justin was pretty sure he did spot some bet money changing hands, though.

It was almost strange how little changed. They’d always rotated so closely around one another anyway, and they weren’t huge on public displays of affection while they were with the team (couldn’t afford the fines anyway), so the only time they really did anything that was definitely beyond the realm of close friendship was up in their attic.

And that one time on the couch, but everyone else was out at class.

Oh, and in the showers at Faber once, but that was in the middle of the night when no one was around. They’d snuck in after Holster had admitted it was kind of a fantasy of his and had both sworn never to tell a soul. Justin still got tingles whenever he passed that shower stall.

What it did change, though, was Justin’s resolve to go to med school. The more he became certain that he wanted his future to include Adam, the less certain he was that he wanted it to involve medicine. Not that he was basing his path on being with Adam or anything (okay, maybe a little) - it was more a gradual realization that what he had always been raised to want and what he _actually wanted_ weren’t necessarily the same thing anymore.

He just had no idea how to tell Adam.

***

The thing about hockey is, it’s a rough sport. Adrenaline runs high, as do emotions. And it’s a _contact_ sport, especially for a d-man. Rivalries are natural. People get hurt. It’s the nature of the game.

For all that Adam and Ransom were goofballs who wouldn’t shut up, get them near ice and they were serious motherfuckers. There was no room for joking in their game, besides maybe a bit of low-key opponent-trolling. A swiped stick, an “accidental” shoulder brush, oops-I-pushed-you. It’s all part of the game.

And then there was Winston Savageau, one of Cornell’s wingers. That fucker. It was like he’d had it out for Adam from the get-go. Adam’s second game at Samwell had been against Cornell. They’d still been on the second line, him and Rans, back when Marsh and Haefitz had still be on the team, but they’d finally gotten some ice time in the second period.

Three minutes and forty seconds. That was how long Adam’s NCAA debut had lasted, how long he’d been on the ice before that fucker Savageau had taken him out with a hard check just that side of still-allowed-in-college-sports. Cracked ribs were not fun, Adam learned that day.

Yeah, Adam hated those Cornell fuckers. _Ithaca is gorges_ \- more like Ithaca is asshats. 

To say he got a little grumpy before games against Cornell was a bit of an understatement. Even Ransom had been known to stay out of his way in the lead-up to Cornell matches, which was definitely saying something.

Okay, fine, some people might say Adam overreacted when Savageau went after Bitty, but Adam had sat off his two minutes in the box and done his penance. And sure, maybe the second time it happened, early in the third period, it had been a little uncalled for. But when Savageau had smashed Ransom against the boards, an elbow in his face and a knee between his legs that left Ransom with a bloody nose and a twisted ankle? That fucker was asking for it. Adam did not regret for one second punching him in the face, even it had meant he’d been disqualified from the game. Dex and Nursey could totally handle the rest of the game.

“What’d you do?” Ransom groaned, pressing the ice pack closer to his face, when he saw Adam back in the locker room before the game was over.

“Got myself sent off the ice,” Adam growled as he chucked his gloves into his changing stall. 

“Hey.” Ransom’s voice was soft as he scooted over, though the wince when his foot touched the floor wasn’t lost on Adam. “It’s not your gear’s fault.”

Adam let out a long huff, plopped himself down on the bench next to Ransom. Ransom’s hand came up to rest on his lower back as Adam buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I fucking hate that savage fucker. Fuck him.”

“I know, Holtzy, I know.” Ransom was running soothing circles over his back. 

It felt … nice. Soothing. Adam could feel his anger seeping away slowly.

“I couldn’t let him just get away with it.” Adam straightened, pushed a hand through his hair, and looked over to Ransom. “Not with what he did to you.”

A smile spread across Ransom’s cracked lips, though it faded quickly into a grimace and he raised the ice pack to his nose again. “Not that I’m not totally flattered about you defending my honor, Adam, but it’s kind of part of the game?”

“I know,” Adam grumbled. “I just hate that fucker.” He sighed and started unlacing his skates. “I’ll be glad when we don’t have to see him ever again.”

“Same, bro.”

“I gotta hit the showers.”

“Yeah you do. You stink, dude.”

“Shuddup Rans, you’re pretty ripe yourself.”

Adam was just finishing up his shower when it hit him - “Same, bro” was to them as “Okay” was to those kids in Fault in Our Stars or “As you wish” for Wesley and Princess Buttercup. He smiled as he shook the water out of his hair. “Same, bro,” he told the empty showers.


	2. Chapter 2

Holster was waiting outside the sciences building when Justin got out of his bio class, kicking softly at the pile of snow that was pushed up against the stone wall that ringed the flower beds as he talked on his phone. That was unexpected - Holster’s class was all the way on the other side of campus. His face lit up when he spotted Justin, a sight that sent Justin’s heart soaring. He leaned over and pressed a quiet kiss to the corner of Justin’s jaw between “Uh-huh yeah” and “I’ll ask him,” motioned for Justin to give him his bag. This ankle injury had really brought out a protective side to Holster that, quite frankly, really did it for Justin.

They fell into step together, a slow, easy pace that didn’t bother Justin’s ankle too much, Holster still engrossed in his call as they headed for the Commons.

“Soooo, that was my mom,” Holster said as he tucked his phone into his pocket when he was finished. He leaned over to give Justin a proper kiss hello. “Hi, by the way. Mom also says hi. And she wants to know if you are coming down for the first night of Hanukkah. We usually do, like, a latke _feast_.”

“When is it?”

“First night is on the 24th. Right at the start of break.”

“Yeah, that should be fine. I’d love to,” Justin added, sliding his hand into Holster’s and entwining their fingers. “But only if you come up for New Year’s.”

Holster pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Hmm, think I can make that work.” He scanned the quad quickly before kissing Justin again, more thoroughly that time. “Better hope there’s no teammates around to see us.”

Justin let go of Holster’s hand, instead sliding his hands up to cup Holster’s face. “I don’t even care. You look good today. Thanks for coming to pick me up, by the way. We coulda just met at the dining hall, you know. Wouldn’ta had to come all the way across campus.”

“Hmmmm, thanks,” Holster mumbled against his lips between kisses. “My class let out early and I just wanted to see you. Plus someone has to carry your books.”

“Sap.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re Canadian.”

Justin pulled away just far enough to send Holster a questioning look.

“Because maple syrup is made of sap? And you love maple syrup?”

Justin narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, I got it. That was still a terrible chirp, though, Adam Birkholtz. Ten points from Gryffindor. Come back when you’ve got better.”

“Fine. Whatever you say, Mr. Milk-comes-in-bags,” Holster grumbled, pulling away. “I’m too hungry to chirp. I’m even too hungry to chirp you for your Harry Potter reference even though you haven’t read it, you heathen. Fuck. Let’s get some grub, man. I’m fucking starving.”

“Same, bro.”

***

“Do you think they’re okay with it?”

Adam lifted his head from where it was nestled into Ransom’s chest to look up at him. He’d been half-asleep, lulled by Ransom’s warmth and his fingers threading rhythmically through Adam’s hair. They’d taken to sharing Adam’s bottom bunk more and more often - it wasn’t ideal, given the broadness of both of their shoulders, but it was still nicer than sleeping alone.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific, bro.”

“Your family. You said they wanted to know if I was coming for Hanukkah.”

Adam let out a chuckle. For all that he had a perfect 4.0 GPA and was one of the smartest people Adam knew, Ransom could be pretty dense.

“Rans, bro, if they weren’t okay with it, they wouldn’t be inviting you for the holidays.”

“Yeah, but they invited me for Passover before.”

“That’s Passover, _everyone_ gets invited to Passover at our house. Hanukkah is a family thing.”

“So you think-”

Adam decided it was best to shut him up with a kiss. “Yeah, I think. It’s okay, Rans. They love you.”

“And you’re okay with them knowing?”

“Of course, bro. They’re my family, and you- you’re my- _everything,_ ” he breathed softly before resuming in his usual cadence, “I don’t see why they shouldn’t know. I want to share this with them. They’d be happy I’m happy.”

In the dim light of the room and without his glasses, Adam could just barely make out Ransom nodding, seemingly to himself, as he chewed at his lower lip. He was clearly working through a Thought.

Whatever was on his mind, he’d come to Adam with it when he was ready to talk about it.

Rather than push the matter, Adam nestled back closer to Ransom again. He was fully awake again now, which was a shame, but he had an idea for how he could distract Ransom from whatever was on his mind … 

***

“Oh, Adam, Justin, I’m glad you’re here.” Of all their teammates, Bitty was the most likely to address them by their actual names, but something about the way he said it, the usual bubbliness gone from his voice meant it was more than just one of his mother-hen lectures, that something was on his mind. Not to mention the odd turn of phrase: Practice was set to start in twenty minutes, and the two of them were co-captains - of course they’d be there. Justin and Holster shared a look before turning their attention to their teammate.

“Yeah Bits, what’s up?” Justin asked, curiosity piqued, and leaned against the frame of his stall in the locker room.

“So, um I’m in a class with Sam Sheldon, you know, from the crew team? President of Athletes and Allies? They’re doing this campaign with the Student Health Center, tryna encourage people to, uh, to get tested before Winter Screw. They asked if the hockey team would be willing to get involved, create some visibility? Sort of like a leading by example thing?”

Justin glanced over to Holster, who was already nodding. 

“We do have a bit of a reputation around campus,” Holster said. “Might be good PR for us.”

“Being pre-med, I think it’s a great cause and certainly worth supporting. And, you know, for personal reasons, I think it’s really important for people to know their status. Good idea. Whaddya say, Holtzy, should we talk to the boys?”

Which was how various members of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team ended up in the Student Center on Thursday afternoon, passing out flyers and encouraging other students to get tested. 

It was important to raise awareness, and it might help smooth out the reputation the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team had earned for itself - that was the official line Justin and Holster had given the team. On a personal note, being involved with Athletes and Allies had certainly become more topical for them since the whole not-as-straight-as-I’d-thought-I-was revelation. And also, things were ramping up between the two of them, sexually, and, well, it’d be good to know their status before things progressed.

These were the logical arguments Justin was repeating in his head like a mantra as he ducked behind the curtain of the testing booth, as he answered the doctor’s questions about his history, as he watched the doctor rub his finger with an alcohol wipe. He was _pre-med_ for fuck’s sake. Getting anxious before a midterm was one thing, surely this wasn’t the sort of thing he should be working himself up about? His heart was pounding in his chest, he could feel sweat beading under the brim of his snapback even though it was December. He pushed out a breath, then another.

“Everything okay?” the doctor asked.

“Fine,” Justin squeaked. “I just- I sometimes have trouble with tests.”

“It’s just a quick prick,” the doctor offered as reassurance.

Somewhere in Justin’s subconscious, Holster giggled and said ‘Yeah, that’s what she said.’

Justin caught himself smiling at the thought, wanting to retort that the joke didn’t even make sense, that it would at least have to be ‘that’s what _he_ said’ in this context, and also your momma-

“Ow!” he yelped, his attention immediately drawn back to his left middle finger, where a bead of blood was already forming.

“There we go,” the doctor said, her voice even and calming as she collected the blood sample and bandaged his finger. “Results will be ready in about half an hour.”

Justin sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly. _Come on, Oluransi, you can handle this,_ he told himself. He gathered his jacket and ducked out of the booth again. Adam was already waiting for him, a matching bandage on his finger and a gigantic sticker on his chest that proclaimed KNOW YOUR STATUS.

“Hey you,” Adam said, his face lighting up when he saw Justin. 

_Breathing. It’s important,_ Justin reminded himself. It was getting easier. 

“Hey yourself.”

Long arms wrapped around him, drawing him closer until he was nestled against Adam’s chest, enveloped in the scent and warmth and _there-ness_ of Adam. He let out a sigh.

“I love you, buddy.” Adam’s voice was soft, the sound warm and reassuring.

“Same, bro,” Justin finally managed.

“It’s gonna be fine, bro.”

It was. Justin blinked a few times as he stared down at the paper in his hands. All clear. Not that he’d really been concerned about it - it had more been the testing process that he’d gotten himself worked up about. God, he was a mess.

But Adam was there, draped over him like a giant blanket, warm and reassuring. Except this blanket was also pressing kisses along the side of his neck, kneading the spot at the base of his spine where he always carried his tension.

“Holtzy,” Justin exhaled.

“Ransi. I love you so much,” Adam mumbled into Justin’s neck.

Justin brought his arms up, wrapped them around Adam’s waist. He tucked the paper into the back pocket of Adam’s jeans. “Same, bro. Love you too, Adam.”

Adam pulled back just far enough to catch Justin’s gaze. “Does this mean we get to bang now?”

Justin huffed and dug his fingers into Adam’s sides, into the fleshy bit just above the hip bones. “I take it all back. I hate you, actually,” he said, though there was no truth in his words. In his best matter-of-fact future-doctor tone, he added, “Still gotta wait for the rest of the results, numbskull. The other stuff takes longer.”

***

The snow piled up in Samwell as December wore on, and so did the schoolwork. Soon enough, Adam would be up to his eyeballs in papers to write and exams to study for, and the only time he’d see Ransom would be when the poor little coral reef was curled up in a little ball in the library, reciting the periodic table or some shit.

But first, one last evening of fun, of fancy dress, of copious consumption of smuggled-in liquor, of a pretty much guaranteed lay (well, this year especially, since Adam was now _in a relationship_ like a real adult or something), of dancing and all-around mayhem: Winter Screw.

For all that they were a raucous bunch, Samwell Men’s Hockey cleaned up nicely. It helped that they had Bits on their side, their own in-Haus Queer Eye consultant, to keep Rans from wearing the blue tie that clashed with his navy blue suit and Adam from wearing " _that belt. Just ever. No, Mr. Birkholtz. Throw that away, burn it, anything!"_

“No, no, no, Holster, you wear this tie, it brings out your eyes. And you, Ransom, here, I “borrowed” this one from Jack for you.”

“Damn, we look good,” Adam said later as he and Ransom stood side-by-side in front of the mirror in Bitty’s closet. It wasn’t even an overstatement or bias. Ransom looked like he’d legit stepped out of the style section of Dude’s Health or something, and Adam kind of wanted nothing more than to drag him upstairs and peel him out of his fancy suit.

Ransom tugged at his cuffs. “Well, I know I do.”

Adam couldn’t let a chirp like that stand unpunished, so he pounced on his boyfriend and rubbed his knuckles into his scalp.

“Stop! My coif!”

“BOYS!” Bitty hollered. “No foreplay in my room! Scoot! I need to get dressed too, you know. Can’t all be as naturally pretty as you two.”

In an epic example of “this is why we can’t have nice things,” the evening did _not_ , in fact, end with Adam and Justin peeling each other out of their suits, but rather with helping an overly intoxicated Tango back to his dorm, holding back his hair (proverbially speaking, of course) as he ralphed up about half his innards, and assuring him that no, elephant seals could not get this far inland and even if one somehow did, it could not open the door to smother him in his sleep. 

Ah, the glory of captaincy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated earlier, I am not an expert on medical testing procedures. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ It's the thought that counts? Just assume that that is how it works. Because plot.  
> Thanks as ever to orbingarrow for cheerleading and to lightforsaken for ... Hanukkah consulting? Let's call it that :-D  
> So, I have this fairly specific headcanon that I feel like maybe I should explain regarding how they refer to each other. The POV character always self-references with their first name. Then generally they will refer to the other by their hockey name. So if it's a Holster POV, he's Adam and the other guy is Ransom. *But*, when they're being schmoopy or let's call it outside of their hockey/Samwell life, they may also think of the other by their first name (We'll see more of that next chapter). So yeah, it kind of varies, but there's a reason for it. Lest anyone think I was switching between them willy-nilly ;-)  
> In next week's* episode: Latkes! More Birkholtz Family Shenanigans! Smut!  
> Kudos and comments are love, and I cherish them forever!  
> Also: happy pi day! I cannot believe I am posting a CP fic on pi day that does not involve pie! What even is this life?!
> 
> *I'm trying really hard to get these chapters out weekly, but I make no promises!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE THERE BE PR0N. If smut isn't your thing, you can skip the bit that starts "Justin Oluransi was a menace" to the next set of asterisks (asterix? ;-) )

Less than a month had passed since the last time Adam and Justin had made the trek up north to their respective families, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Last time, they’d been nearly silent for most of the drive. Today, they were rocking out together like the undiscovered rock stars that they were. Last time, the events of the night before had hung over them like a smothering weight. This time, well, Adam got a little flustered thinking about the events of the night before, but now he knew what it all meant, that there _would_ be a next time, that he’d still have his best friend tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after.

Yeah, Adam was feeling a little nostalgic during the drive, and it was only partly (okay, like seventy-five percent) because Ransom had decided that they were only going to play early-2000s pop music.

“I got a feeling, that tonight’s gonna be a good night!” they crooned in unison, Adam holding his phone like a microphone as he serenaded Ransom, who was dancing over in the driver’s seat.

“It _is_ gonna be a fucking good night, because fucking latkes!” Adam pumped the air before reaching out to put his hand on Ransom’s knee. More softly, he added, “I’m looking forward to Hanukkah.”

Ransom looked over and smiled. “Dude, we are gonna kick ass at Hanukkah. I have been practicing my dreidel skills and Rebecca will _not_ know what hit her.”

Adam raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “Where did you get a dreidel? Also, it’s Abby you’ll want to look out for.” 

“From Jack,” Ransom shot back, as if that were the most obvious answer in the world. Which it _kind of_ was, since he was their closest (part-)Jewish friend, but it certainly didn’t explain the why, when or how of Ransom’s dreidel acquisition. There was an implied premeditation that Adam wanted to hear more about - did Ransom call Jack, NHL star player who also lived almost an hour away, and ask him to bring him a dreidel? Did they sit together playing dreidel while Adam was at class, going over the different letters? Did Ransom have a spreadsheet of all the rules?! (Of course he did, this was Ransom, after all.)

Adam was about to demand answers, but then Mr. Brightside came on the playlist and, well, Adam had very important rocking out to do.

***

The Birkholtz family was an experience. Justin had gotten used to them over the years, though it was usually only Mama and Papa Birkholtz for parents’ weekend and maybe a sister or two for a visit during the academic year. All six of them at once, though, that was rare.

Which was maybe for the better, because otherwise Justin would be _deaf_ by now.

“JUSTIN! It’s so good to see you again!” Adam’s mother, Elaine, practically shouted as she wrapped them both up in a tight hug as soon as they entered the house. 

“Hi Mom,” Adam grumbled.

“Hush you,” she teased, squeezing them tighter. “You know I’m always glad to have you home, baby.”

“Thought I was your baby, Mom,” Abby pointed out as she latched onto them.

“You’re all my babies,” Elaine countered, patting Adam and Justin’s heads as she extracted herself from the hug before the rest of the Birkholtz sisters joined in.

“Thanks for letting me celebrate with you.” 

Justin wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hear him through all the layers of Birkholtz, but she apparently she did, since she replied, “Of course, Justin. You’re part of the family, after all.”

Her words rolled through him, eased some of his apprehensions and left a warm feeling of happiness settling somewhere in his belly. He looked over to see Adam beaming at him, hearts practically visible in Adam’s eyes.

“Come on, Rans, let’s drop our bags downstairs and then it’s time for our showdown. DreidelFest, the Birkoning. You’re going down, Abs.”

“Don’t even, bro. That was terrible.”

Alright. Maybe Adam had been right. Maybe Justin had had no idea what was going to hit him when the Birkholtz family got out the dreidels.

He’d been practicing, he’d studied the rules and worked on his technique with Jack (who had laughed and admitted that he’d only played dreidel a few times as a kid with his cousins). But there was no way a few pointers from Jack could ever be enough to go head-to-head against the Birkholtz sisters. Sure, they looked sweet and kind - especially Abby, darling enigma that she was - but boy, the Birkholtz competitive streak ran a mile wide in that one.

“Haha, take that, Oluransi!” she gloated as she dragged all the gelt into her pile.

“Aw man,” Justin grumbled, though he was doing a poor job of hiding his amusement.

Adam reached out and rubbed his hand over Justin’s hair in exactly the way Justin hated-slash-secretly-loved. “Sorry, bro. These girls are ruthless.”

“Fun fact,” Elaine interjected, “if Adam had been a girl, we would have named him after Great-Aunt Ruth.”

“See, we are all Ruth-less,” Adam’s father, Ben, pointed out. He’d been in the kitchen while they were playing, and he was wiping his hands on his apron. “Latkes are ready.”

“LATKES!” Adam’s entire family sprang to their feet in unison, dreidels and chocolate coins abandoned as they pushed their way towards the dining table. 

“So, what’s with the toppings?” Justin asked once they were all seated and digging in. He pointed to the dish of applesauce, the pot of sour cream. “Which one do you put on?”

“Well, whichever you prefer,” Sarah replied as she reached over for the applesauce. “Some people like it sweet, because that’s the best. Some people like it savory, so there’s sour cream for that. And _some people_ ,” she nudged Adam with her elbow, “are heathens.”

Adam looked up from his latkes, which he’d been pouring hot sauce over, like syrup on pancakes. “What?” he said unapologetically around a mouthful of potato pancakes. “We’re from _Buffalo._ We put that shit on everything.”

“Adam,” Elaine warned.

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug before correcting, “we put that _stuff_ on everything.”

After dinner, Ben Birkholtz lit the first candle, a few prayers were said (of which Justin understood nothing, since they were in Hebrew) and presents were passed out. Adam sprang to his feet with a “Crap, wait!” and ran off, reappearing from the garage a few moments later holding a long, slender item that Justin recognized immediately despite the haphazard wrapping.

“For you, my best bro, my wonderful wingman, and other diverse descriptors,” Adam said as he presented it to Justin with a bow.

Justin stared down at the hockey stick in his hands, then up at Adam, who was grinning proudly, and down at the stick again. “Bro,” he said reverently as he tore off the paper. As suspected, it was exactly the stick he’d been eyeing for months now. It was ridiculously expensive, though, which was why he hadn’t even entertained the thought of getting it. He had no idea how Adam had been able to afford it. Suddenly the Little Sebastian plushie Justin had gotten for Adam seemed silly and inconsequential. Not sure what to say, all he managed was another “Bro.”

Adam’s grin grew even wider, and he waved his hand with a put-on air of nonchalance. “They were having a sweet sale after Thanksgiving, and I knew you really wanted it, so…”

“Bro, you’re the best.” Justin blinked a few times in an attempt to clear the wetness forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Aww, bro, c’mere.” Adam kneeled down next to where Justin was sitting and dragged him in for a tight hug. In Justin’s ear, he whispered, “Same, bro.”

Once presents had been exchanged, they all made their way over to the den, Birkholtzes sprawled out across the various couches and armchairs in an array of unconventional seating positions. Adam, for one, draped himself across Rebecca, his head nestled in Justin’s lap.

It was genetic, apparently. As was Adam’s love for television binge-watching, since it was generally accepted that the thing to do after dinner and presents was put on The OC and let it run as they all slowly dropped off to sleep.

“Hey, bro, come on, sleeping beauty.” Adam’s knuckles brushed over Justin’s chin, the scrape of skin over stubble rousing Justin from his sleep.

“Hmmm?” Justin hummed. He blinked a few times. The TV had been turned off, all the Birkholtzes except Sarah and Rebecca had gone, presumably to bed. “How long was I out?”

“No idea, I was asleep too,” Adam replied, at the same time as Sarah supplied, “About two episodes.”

“You guys are, like, stupidly cute together,” Rebecca grumbled sleepily from next to them, her head nestled against Justin’s bicep. “Adam’s been drooling into your leg all evening.”

“Sounds like my kind of Friday night,” Adam chirped as he dug his feet into her leg.

“Ow!” she hissed, shifting to evade his toes and thwacking him with a pillow in retaliation.

“Can you guys wrestle when you’re not sitting on top of me?”

Adam stilled and looked up at Justin. “Sorry babe.” His voice was low, soft. “Let’s go to bed, huh?”

“Bowchickawowwow,” Rebecca and Sarah catcalled.

“I hate both of you,” Adam grumbled as he swung his legs off Rebecca and sat up. 

Justin nodded in agreement, though on the inside he was dancing. None of Adam’s family had said anything directly about the, um, evolution of their relationship - Adam and Justin hadn’t exactly been hiding anything, even if they hadn’t actually told anyone they were _dating_ now - but it was clear that his family didn’t have an issue with it, that they were happy about it, even. It was encouraging. Justin had _no idea_ how his own family would take it - they were a pretty accepting bunch on the whole, so he wasn’t worried about any sort of homophobic backlash or anything. It was more a matter of … not living up to expectations. It had always been there, for as long as he could remember, his future painted out for him: go to school, become a doctor, marry a nice girl, have a bunch of kids who will grow up to be doctors. He’s not even sure anymore if they’d put that picture in his head or if he’d come up with it all by himself. Probably didn’t really matter, in the end. It was still there. 

His parents had been through a lot to come to Canada, to build a life in which they could raise their kids. _So that you can live a better life_. And yeah, Justin absolutely wanted to do that. He wanted to make his parents proud, he wanted to honor their hard work and the sacrifices they had made so that he could live the life he led now. He just … wasn’t sure if the life they wanted him to lead and the life _he_ wanted to lead still lined up.

Adam was holding out his hand for Justin to take, Justin realized when he finally snapped out of his thoughts. He took it, let himself be pulled up off the couch, maybe stumbled a little more than necessary into Adam as he landed on his feet. He hooked his arm around Adam’s waist. 

“Lead the way, Holtzy,” he instructed, winking overtly at Adam’s sisters, who giggled and groaned, respectively.

***

Justin Oluransi was a menace, and Adam was absolutely going to kill him.

Maybe after he’d had his way with him, though.

It had started at dinner, the way Justin had tried desperately to keep up with the Hebrew prayers (to be fair, Adam had been struggling there too - Hanukkah and Passover were pretty much the only time he used the Hebrew he’d learned as a kid, and he hadn’t exactly been a stellar student then). Then the way his eyes had glistened when Adam had given him the hockey stick, looking up at Adam like Adam had hung the stars or something. And the Little Sebastian plushie - it was everything Adam had never known he needed. It was perfect, and thoughtful, and so adorable Adam could cry, and he was going to love and cherish it forever.

_Just like this beautiful nerd,_ Adam thought as he wrapped his arms around Justin once they were downstairs. He pulled Justin close, ran his hand over Justin’s hair, relishing the feel of Justin’s tight curls under his fingers. Justin’s arms came up to wrap around Adam, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other at the small of his back.

If someone had told him half a year ago - hell, even two months ago - that Adam would melt into the feeling of strong, masculine arms around him, that _this_ would be where he’d feel the most at ease, the most himself, well, he probably wouldn’t have believed it.

But there he was, and here they were, and Adam was so completely, 100% gone for this man. It was almost overwhelming, except that it wasn’t at all. It was too early to be thinking thoughts like that, part of his brain told him, but it also definitely wasn’t, because Adam had known that he wanted Justin to be part of his future since about three days after they’d met, albeit in a different capacity he’d thought at the time, and for that to work now, it was all or nothing. And nothing definitely was off the table.

“I love you, bro,” he mumbled into the crook of Justin’s neck.

Justin’s lips ghosted over Adam’s ear, his breath warm on Adam’s neck as he chuckled softly.

“Same, bro,” Justin replied before pulling back to catch Adam’s lips in a kiss, and soon they were crossing the room toward the bed, mouths on each other, hands wandering. They made quick work of removing their clothes, didn’t even bother to pull back the blanket before they tumbled onto the bed, Justin’s weight reassuring and warm on top of Adam as he trailed kisses down his body.

Adam sucked in a sharp breath when Justin’s lips closed around his dick. They’d done this before, numerous times (don’tthinkaboutthattimeintheshowerinFaber, his brain chanted, don’tthinkaboutthattimeintheshowerinFaber, what happens in the locker room _stays_ in the locker room, and even thinking about it still kinda made his knees hurt) but the sight of it still caught him by surprise - the sight of Justin licking up his length, of his dick disappearing in Justin’s mouth.

“Fuuuuck,” Adam ground out.

Justin pulled off, which was exactly the opposite of what Adam wanted. At least he was kind enough to wrap his fingers around Adam’s dick. “This okay?”

“Fuck yes,” Adam hissed. “More than okay. This, everything. Yours for the taking, babe.”

Justin looked up at Adam through his eyelashes, his head cocked slightly to one side and his right eyebrow raised as if to say “oh yeah?”

Adam nodded, propped himself up on his elbows as he spread his legs further. “All yours, bro.” At Justin’s surprised blinking, he specified, “I want you to fuck me. If you want.”

“Fuck, Holtz,” Justin groaned as he hauled himself up to kiss Adam while he stroked his dick slowly (far too slowly). “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” Adam asked against Justin’s lips.

“I’m gonna, like, cum all over you at the thought.”

“I mean, if that’s what you want,” Adam said between kisses, rolling his hips to grind into Justin’s hand.

Justin shifted to kiss along Adam’s jaw, down his neck to that spot that always turned Adam into a whimpering puddle. “It’s not. I, uh, I’d really like to … you know, what you said.”

Adam barked out a laugh. “Still can’t say it, can you, Rans?”

“Fuck you,” Justin growled, more a curse than a description of potential events to follow, and then - that bastard - he nipped at Adam’s collar bone.

“Fuck!” Adam gasped, arching against Justin, who just chuckled and kissed his way down Adam’s body. “Just don’t leave marks where they can be seen this time, will ya?”

Justin chuckled into Adam’s thigh. “Do you have any…”

Adam pointed toward where their bags lay. “My backpack, the little pocket in the front.”

Adam missed the touch immediately as Justin pulled away to get Adam’s bag, but it was worth it for the view - the triumphant look on Justin’s face when he held up a bottle of lube as well as Justin’s naked body as he stood before him, gorgeous muscles and his thick, hard cock on full display. A stab of lust rolled through Adam at the thought of having Justin inside him, and he let out a quiet groan.

Justin came back to the sofa bed and crawled up the length of Adam’s body to run a hand softly through Adam’s hair. “Hey,” he said reverently, “you sure about this?”

Adam licked at his bottom lip and nodded. He was ready - he’d _been_ ready. He’d been ready for weeks, but first they’d been waiting for the test results, and then at Winter Screw they’d been … prevented, and finals had started after that (and Adam knew better than to try to introduce anything new to the coral reef during finals) and they’d both been too exhausted for anything more than quick handjobs, and here they were. “So, _so_ sure. I want this. I want you. I want everything.”

Justin grinned. “Swawesome,” he chuckled, ducking out of the way when Adam swatted at him. He was forgiven immediately, though, when his lips closed around Adam’s dick again and he slowly worked Adam open, one finger, two, three, until Adam was panting and practically begging for Justin to just get on with it, dammit.

“Justinnnnnnnn,” Adam whined. “Need you. Please.”

Justin pulled away, squeezed out a bit more lube and stroked it over his dick. Damn, if that wasn’t the hottest thing Adam had ever seen.

“Fuck. I love you, bro.” Justin looked down at Adam with a soft smile of his face, his body framed by Adam’s knees.

“Love you,” Adam returned. 

Justin pressed a soft kiss to the top of Adam’s knee, then shifted closer to line himself up and - oh wow, that was Ransom’s dick pushing into Adam’s asshole.

Adam let out a long breath as Justin breached him, pinched his eyes closed at the intrusion.

“You okay? I can stop.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Adam growled, hooking a foot around Justin to pull him closer. It was definitely different, this, but fuck, Adam had never felt so _close_ to someone else before. It was like they’d ceased to be Adam and Justin and were now one being. RansomandHolster. Ranster. Jusdam.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Justin groaned when he bottomed out. “This is… fuck. Amazing.”

Adam hummed in agreement. It was almost too much, this feeling of fullness, of closeness, of Rans inside him - almost more than he could handle, and Adam suddenly needed so much more. “Need you, Rans,” he ground out, “need you to move.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

A soft chuckle escaped Adam. “Maybe you should have considered that before you went and grew a _huge cock_.”

Justin glared at him. “Yes, I really should have thought about that during puberty. Sorry. Except I’m not. Besides,” he slid his hand over Adam’s knee and down his leg to stroke his dick, “you’ve got like, a good two or three centimeters in length on me.”

Adam rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh my god, Justin, this is America, we use inches. Now can you please shut up and fuck me?”

“I live to serve,” Justin shot back, pressing a soft kiss to Adam’s pectoral as he pulled back slowly before pushing in again, setting an easy rhythm.

It was good. It was _so_ good. Way better than Adam would ever have imagined having a dick in his ass would be (not that he’d really imagined that until a few weeks ago). Maybe he’d just had that misconception, maybe it was because he was _ridiculously in love_ with the owner of said dick. 

Yeah, probably that.

Adam felt his whole body tense as his orgasm built. “‘M close,” he ground out, and all it took was a few more strokes of Justin’s hand around Adam’s cock in time with his thrusts, quick and determined, and Adam’s vision whited out.

“Fuck, Justin!” he let out as he came, and Justin groaned in response, his eyes screwed shut, his mouth agape, and fuck if that wasn’t a gorgeous sight.

“Wow,” Justin practically purred as he was coming down from his orgasm, the weight of his body on top of Adam both reassuring and a little constrictive. In the best possible way.

“Yeah,” Adam panted in agreement.

“We’re all sticky,” Justin murmured into Adam’s chest.

“I have never been gladder in my life that my parents decided to put a shower in the bathroom in our basement and that I don’t have to walk upstairs like this.”

***

“Oh my god, Adam, you are the biggest dweeb ever.”

A balled-up straw wrapper hit him in the forehead and wedged itself in the nose pads of his glasses, and Adam looked up from his masterpiece to scowl at his youngest sister.

They were wedged into a booth at their favorite diner - Adam, Justin and Rebecca on one side, Abby, Sarah and her boyfriend Eric on the other. Luckily, the diner was fairly empty, it being Christmas Day, so no one seemed too bothered by the noise that the Birkholtz kids tended to bring with them.

“Abigail. I am making _art_. You can’t just interrupt the artistic process.”

Next to him, Justin nearly choked on his coffee. “Yeah, pretty sure actual artists would object to you using the term ‘art’ so loosely, bro.”

Adam shot Justin a glare and contemplated his drawing. The diner had paper placemats and crayons at each table - of course he was gonna draw something. It was like they were ordering him to draw. And yeah, of course he was gonna draw out hockey plays.

He was the (co-)captain of a college hockey team, after all.

“What?” he grumbled. “This could be our next great play.”

“Whatever you say, bro,” Justin chuckled.

Adam stuck his tongue out at Justin and, just to annoy his sisters, picked out the magenta crayon, drew a heart around two of the little stick-figure players he’d drawn and labeled it AB+JO.

“DWEEEEEEEB,” Abby crooned, pushing the crayons aside when the server showed up with their food.

Adam swiped a slice of toast off Abby’s plate and shoved it in his mouth. “You’re just jealous cuz my boyfriend is hotter than yours,” he said around his mouthful.

“That’s because he is more _existent_ than mine,” Abby said with a huff.

“I feel ya, sista,” Rebecca grumbled, holding up her fist for Abby to bump, which she did.

“I hope, though, that each of your hypothetical boyfriends will have better table manners than my existent yet uncivilized oaf of a boyfriend.” Justin shoved a fork at Adam and glared.

“Fanks babe,” Adam mumbled around a mouthful of sausage. It was the first time they’d used the term boyfriend around his family, Adam realized. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at that. It had a nice ring to it. He pressed a crumb-sprinkled kiss on Justin’s cheek. “Pass the hot sauce, please, shnookums?”

“You really do put that shit on everything,” Justin remarked as Adam poured about a gallon of it on his eggs.

Adam and Justin headed to Niagara Falls after breakfast. It had become a tradition by then, something they’d done each time they’ve been home for winter break and in the summer. The Falls are an incredible sight at any time of year. Most people come during the summer, of course, and that’s when they’re at their full glory, water pounding down into the Gorge below with a dizzying force. But Adam’s favorite time to go was during the winter, when ice clogs up the river, slowing the rush of water. When the mist from the Falls is actually tiny projectiles of ice and only a handful of people are brave-slash-crazy enough to go to the edge on Goat Island, unless the snow and ice have built up high enough for Parks Services to have to close it.

It was closed that day, so they stayed on the path near American Falls. It was cold as fuck, but Adam didn’t mind as they leaned against the railing, both staring down at the water without really looking at the Falls. The Maid of the Mist boat tours were closed for the season, of course, but the sight of the frozen docks reminded Adam of the first time they’d come here together. It had been the summer between freshman and sophomore years. They’d driven up separately that year - Adam had still had his car then and he’d wanted to have it up in Buffalo for the summer. Two weeks of summer had passed before they’d both realized (admitted?) that they missed the other, but Justin had been working a summer job at a peewee rink that kept him in Toronto on the weekends and Adam had an internship during the week, so there hadn’t been much opportunity to see each other. The Fourth of July had been a Monday that year, though, and Justin didn’t work Mondays, so he’d come down and they’d hiked the Gorge together, with a picnic out on the rocks and everything.

It was still one of Adam’s favorite days.

And there they were, three years later. This would be their last winter break together. Sure, they’d be back for the holidays in the future too, but things would be different then. Their last semester of college would be starting soon, and after graduation Adam would have to find a job somewhere while Justin would be in med school, then doing his residency, then whatever the hell other shit people had to go through to become doctors. Who knew where that all would take him, and who knew how or if he and Adam would be able to manage to be in the same state, let alone the same city.

Adam looked over to Justin, who was chewing on his lip in that way that told Adam that Justin was probably thinking something similar. He was heading up to Toronto later that day, and it would be a few days before they saw each other again when Adam came up for New Years. The prospect of being apart seemed so much more difficult now.

“Um,” Justin started finally, but then didn’t continue.

Adam reached over to rest his hand on Justin’s back. “What’s up, bro?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell my family.” Justin stood up, stepped just far enough away to be out of Adam’s reach. “About us.”

Adam blinked. All he managed in response was a quiet “Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops, cliffhanger. Sorrynotsorry.  
> This chapter got way longer than I meant it to. Many thanks to lightforsaken for "Hanukkah consulting". In my headcanon, the Birkholtzes are fairly non-practicing Jewish (Adam probably eats bacon when he's not at home), and Jack is half-Jewish. And yes, in Buffalo we really do put hot sauce (which other people call "Buffalo sauce" but we just call it hot sauce because THERE IS NO OTHER ~~and also if it isn't Frank's it isn't hot sauce~~ ) on everything. Like, you know how some restaurants have ketchup bottles on the tables already? In Buffalo they have hot sauce on the tables.  
> ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD to everyone who commented and kudo'ed. You guys keep me going :-*  
> Please come scream at [me on tumblr](www.imafriendlydalek.tumblr.com) \- I need more CP on my dash :-)  
> Stay tuned for the next episode: Justin "Great Barrier Reef" Oluransi


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I made no promises on weekly updates? I meant it ;-)   
> Thanks millions to everyone who left comments - you give me wiiiiiiiiiiiiings!

Justin was halfway to Toronto when it hit him - the reason Adam had clammed up, had shut down, had been quiet and reserved for the rest of their visit to the Falls. The reason Adam had been so quiet on the drive back to the Birkholtz house, had busied himself with untangling the SEGA controllers while Justin had packed up his things. Had seemed so _surprised_ when Justin had kissed him goodbye.

“You absolute moron,” Justin told the air in his otherwise empty car. The fabric roof of the Jeep rattled ominously in the winds coming off Lake Ontario, and it certainly wasn’t the first time Justin imagined a gust catching hold of the Jeep as it chugged its way along the Skyway bridge and sending him soaring to a watery grave in the bay below.

_Way to make it sound like you’re ashamed of him,_ he thought. _Great timing, too, Oluransi. At least you waited until you didn’t actually still have your dick buried in his ass to make the poor guy feel worthless._

He contemplated turning around and driving back to Buffalo to set things straight, but there was still the matter of being on a fucking huge bridge, and at least ninety minutes of waiting time at the border crossings. Instead, he pulled off the highway at the next exit and dialed Adam’s number.

“Hey,” Adam answered after a few rings. His voice sounded hoarse, and it made Justin queasy to think that Adam was upset because of him.

“Hey yourself. I, um, just wanted to talk to you.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Justin realized what “I want to talk to you” probably sounded like he was trying to say and _shit_ he was just royally fucking this up today, wasn’t he?

“Shit. What I meant was - I just wanted to say that I love you and that you are the most important person in my life. Not sure I’d mentioned that earlier.”

An ambulance passed by, sirens blaring, so if Adam did react, Justin didn’t hear it.

“Thanks for calling,” Adam finally said. “I needed that. Same, bro. Love you too.”

A wave of relief washed over Justin. Geez, he was so damn lucky to have such an awesome boyfriend. 

“Good. I, uh, I gotta go, I don’t think I’m allowed to be parked here, but I’ll call you when I get there, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good, bro.”

“I love you.”

There was a chuckle in Adam’s voice when he replied, “Yeah, you mentioned, you big softie,” so Justin was going to count it as a win.

Justin put the Jeep back in gear and pulled out onto the street again. An hour later, he was sprawled out on the couch in his parent’s house in Toronto, a plate of puff-puff teetering on his stomach and a steaming cup of coffee on the table to his left, listening his mom prattle on about all the adorable things his eighteen-month-old nephew Tayo had done last time his sister Ife had brought him over. It was good to be home.

Well, if this could even still be called home. It always would be, in a way, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be where he’d look for a job after graduation. Or go to med school. Crap. Right, he was going to med school after graduation. Right?

He popped a puff-puff into his mouth, focused on the warm sweetness in the hopes of silencing his over-busy mind.

It didn’t.

***

“So, is everyone hounding you on your plans for after graduation too?” 

Adam glanced over to his sister, who was kicking at a pile of snow as if it had personally offended her. Their mom had shooed them out of the house - “too much moping is bad for the soul!” - and he and Rebecca had ended up at the park overlooking the water, where Lake Erie turns into the Niagara River. And just across that relatively narrow stretch of water, close enough to tell what color hat the guy on the other shore is wearing, lies Canada. 

Where Justin was. (Well, okay, he was in _Canada_ , but he wasn’t right across the river - it was still kind of a hike up to Toronto, but either way, the point was Justin was _not with Adam_ and that sucked.)

“Constantly,” Adam finally replied. Adam’s stint in juniors and his therefore delayed start in college meant that he and his sister were both graduating from college in the same year. The family joked, and Adam laughed with them, that Samwell and UB had better not have their graduations the same weekend, even though he knew that if it did come down to it, they’d go to Rebecca’s and not his. He couldn’t - didn’t - blame them: It’s a long ways to Massachusetts from Buffalo, and not a cheap trip for the whole family. He’d understand. He just hoped it wouldn’t end up that way. 

Adam put on a high-pitched tone meant to emulate their mother. “Adam, have you found a job yet? Adam, do we need to clear out the rec room for you? Maybe Rebecca will move out, then you can have her room. Adam, don’t you want to think about getting a Master’s? You could go into accounting like your father.”

Rebecca groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ugh, I knowwww. She’s the worst. ‘Rebecca, what’s your next step? Rebecca, have you filled out your grad school applications yet? Rebecca, you know, Jenny Langford got an five million on the GREs, how come you didn’t take the GREs?’ Because you don’t need it at UB, Mom. Man, I wish I _could_ move out so I could just, you know, breathe for once. But, you know, rent’s not gonna pay itself.”

Adam huffed. Yeah, he knew that well. He’d managed to get through college with a minimum of debt - thanks, hockey scholarship! - but sometimes he looked at the price of rental housing in the Boston area and just wanted to cry.

“I feel ya. I just hope I’ll be able to find a decent job wherever Rans ends up in med school,” he admitted with a frown. 

Rebecca was smiling at him, he saw when he looked over to her, and he felt his mood lift somewhat. It was nice to see how supportive his family was of his relationship. 

“I’m sure you’ll find something. There’s always consulting.”

“Ugh, grunt work,” Adam groaned.

“Hey, better than nothing, which is what you get in geology without a Master’s. Or even with. ‘What are your qualifications?’ Uh, I know stuff about rocks?”

Adam nudged Rebecca with his shoulder (except he forgot that his sister was not a six-foot-something hockey player, and accidentally sent her flying). “Sorry!” he shrieked, and reached out to catch her. 

She repaid his efforts by punching him in the arm. “You big oaf.”

“Sorry!” he offered again. “And, for what it’s worth, I think geologists rock.”

She punched him again.

“You seem happy. Despite all the pre-graduation BS, of course. But you and Justin. It’s a good look on you.”

A smile curled at the corners of Adam’s mouth. “I am happy,” he replied with a nod. “It’s- I don’t know. Not something I’d ever have expected, I think? But also it feels like the most natural thing in the world.”

Rebecca grinned at him. “Well, I think there’s a reason they always tell you to ‘marry your best friend.’ I just don’t think they mean it quite so literally.”

“Well, it’s probably a bit soon to go throwing around the M word,” Adam said with a chuckle. “Now we just need to find a nice guy for you, eh?”

“‘Eh?’ Geez, the Canadian is rubbing off on you.” Rebecca’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d just said, and Adam grinned at her. “Ewwwwww, no, don’t say it! Ewww.”

She covered her ears and ran away from him before he could reply.

***

“What the heck?” Dami asked, stumbling toward the coffee pot. “Who are you and what have you done with my hockey jock brother?”

It was nine a.m. on December 30th, and Justin was in the kitchen at his parents’ house in Toronto, making blueberry pancakes. He chuckled and swatted his sister’s hand away from the bowl of blueberries. 

“One lives with Eric Bittle for a year and a half, one picks up a few habits,” he replied with a shrug. He definitely wasn’t channeling his pent-up energy and anxiety into cooking. No, that was the Bittle way. He was just trying to do something nice for his family, whom he loved and missed when he was away from them.

He glanced at the stacks of pancakes on the plate in the oven to keep warm, at the half-full bowl of batter waiting to be cooked. Yeah, okay, maybe he was anxiety-cooking. Just a little.

It was probably better than his usual method of curling up in a ball and shutting down.

He was allowed to miss his boyfriend, though, right? Sure, it had only been five days and he’d get to see Adam again tomorrow, but he was just so used to having Adam around _all the time_ that it felt like a missing limb or something. 

No Adam, and no hockey. It had been a rough week.

He wanted to tell his sister what was on his mind. He longed to tell his family, to tell the world - “I’M IN LOVE WITH ADAM BIRKHOLTZ!”

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Because “I’m in love” is always followed by “what are you going to do when you graduate?” and that meant telling them his actual plans for the future, which were getting murkier and murkier by the day. And how the hell was he supposed to tell his family something like that if he hadn’t figured it out yet himself?

“How’s school?” he asked instead, desperate to change the subject. 

“It’s so great!” Dami replied enthusiastically, and launched into a full-scale retelling of her first semester at the University of Toronto. Justin tried to conjure memories of that same feeling of enthusiasm for his course of study. He’d had it, at some point, he was sure of it. He just- after three and a half years of panic attacks each semester before finals, of nights spent cramming before a quiz after he’d just had his ass handed to him at hockey - well, it had faded.

All he wanted to do was say goodbye to testing. To be done with it. No more.

But that meant giving up, and Justin had never been one to give up. It wasn’t in his nature, and it certainly wasn’t how his parents had raised him.  
Fuck.

***

Adam pulled up in front of the Oluransi house and let out a long breath as he put the car in park. He turned off the headlights, the radio, the heat, then finally the ignition. With nothing else to stall him, he grabbed his bag from the passenger seat, got out of the car, and trotted up to the front door. He hovered his finger over the doorbell, suddenly afraid to ring it.

How was he supposed to walk in there and pretend like he and Justin were just friends when they both knew they were worlds beyond that? Would he even be able to do it? Would he be able to just give Justin a quick hug hello, maybe one of those bro-clasps like he did with Shitty or Chowder, when what he really wanted to do was hold him close and tell him how much he’d missed him these past few days? Would he be able to look Justin’s parents in the eye and not give everything away? 

But that was what Justin had asked him to do, what Justin wanted, so Adam would go along with it. He might not like it, but he respected his partner’s wishes. Adult Relationships 101.

There was also that little niggling voice at the back of Adam’s head that said what if Justin didn’t want to tell them about their relationship because he was ashamed, because he wasn’t fully in, because he didn’t think it was going to last.

Adam wanted to punch that voice in the throat.

He rang the bell.

“Please let Rans answer, please let Rans answer,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hi, Mr. O!” he practically shouted, feigning excitement as Justin’s father opens the door. Just his luck - the Oluransi he’s always had the most difficulty connecting with. It’s not that Justin’s father wasn’t an awesome dude or that he hadn’t welcomed Adam into his family like one of his own, it’s just that they didn’t have a ton in common. Olujimi Oluransi (Jimi, as he was usually called) was possibly the only hockey dad Adam had ever met who didn’t actually like hockey, for starters. He also had an auditory processing disorder that made loud noises hard for him to handle, which tended to clash with Adam’s boisterous antics.

“Hi,” he said again, much more quietly this time, when he remembered himself.

“Hi Adam, come on in. Justin’s just in the kitchen with his mother.” Jimi pulled the door open to welcome Adam in.

Adam made sure to wipe off his shoes extra carefully before entering. Tracking street grit all over the house wouldn’t be the best way to start his stay.

“How have you been?”

Jimi nodded. “Well, thank you. Dami brings Tayo over sometimes and boy, having a little one in the house sure keeps you young!”

Adam nodded in agreement, even if he had no basis for reference for a statement like that. His sisters were all younger than he was, and Sarah was the only one with a boyfriend, but she was only nineteen, so he was pretty unlikely to be getting any niblings any time soon. To be honest, kids kind of frightened him.

“Hey, Holtzy!” Justin called from the kitchen, as if he’d sensed Adam’s desperation for rescuing. 

Adam rounded the corner into the kitchen, which was when he caught sight of Ransom standing by the oven wearing a frilly apron, his hands wrist-deep in what looked like bread dough and flour in his hair. He tried and failed to suppress a giggle. “Did you kidnap Bits and drag him up to Canada?”

“Shuddup, Holtz. We’re making nut muffins for breakfast tomorrow and I _know_ you are gonna eat at least five, so no chirping now.”

Justin’s mother had made her way across the kitchen to where Adam was standing in the doorway, and she wrapped him up in a warm hug. “It’s good to see you again, Adam.”

“You too, Adaora,” Adam mumbled into her hair. “Thanks for having me.”

“Why don’t you go put your bag in Justin’s room and come give us a hand, eh? You’re always so good at chopping carrots.”

“Yep, that’s me, Master Carrot Chopper,” Adam acknowledged. Yeah, he was weirdly proud of his title. As long as none of the guys back at school found out about it, ever. Especially Bits - he’d probably make nothing but carrot cake for a week, and Adam would have to do all the chopping. Well, on second thought, Adam did really like carrot cake.

“I’ll come with you.” Justin’s voice pulled Adam out of his daydream.

“Justin, I think Adam knows where your room is by now. I need you to get those muffins in the oven before they settle. 

Justin flashed him a smile that was meant to be reassuring. It almost helped. 

Adam gathered his bag and trudged up the stairs to Justin’s room. He took his time depositing his bag, holding out hope that Ransom might come upstairs to join him and they could talk or … geez, Adam just really wanted a hug.

But Ransom didn’t come up, and there was only so long Adam could pretend to be putting his bag away, so he headed back downstairs.

***

Adam had seemed off since he’d arrived. It made Justin feel sick to his stomach, knowing that it was his fault Adam was upset. He’d tried to find ways to reassure him, but somehow his family had kept getting in their way all afternoon, through dinnertime and up until they were getting ready to go out to celebrate the new year, and they hadn’t had a chance to talk in private, let alone anything more affectionate.

So when Justin finally had Adam alone in his room as they were changing, he didn’t bother with a big speech - he just tugged Adam close, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed him silly. He could feel Adam tense at first and then practically melt into the kiss. Excellent. Mission accomplished.

“I’m sorry,” he offered when they finally came up for air. 

“Me too, Rans. Sorry I’ve been shitty all day. It’s just - I thought maybe- maybe you not wanting to tell your parents was because you weren’t sure about us.”

Justin snaked a hand around Adam’s waist in an effort to ground himself. “Holtzy, I am _so_ sure about us. That’s literally the only thing I am sure about these days.”

“What do you mean?”

“This sucks. I know. I know it’s all my fault. I’m just - I need a little more time.”

Adam smiled meekly and lifted a hand to Justin’s cheek. “I know, buddy. I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. When you’re ready. Until then, I got your back.”

“Only until then?” Justin teased. He couldn’t let an opening like that stand, and this conversation sorely needed some levity.

It earned him a prod in the ribs. “Probably,” Adam grumbled, though there was no upset in his voice, so Justin knew he was just being the grumpy curmudgeon Justin knew and loved. 

Adam’s mood brightened somewhat once they were out of the house. Justin grabbed his hand once they were out of the cab - ostensibly to lead Adam toward the restaurant they were going to have dinner at, but the way Adam seemed to relax into the gesture definitely wasn’t lost on Justin. 

Which in turn brighted Justin’s mood as well, and made him all the more excited for Adam to figure out what he had planned for later.

With no family members to hide from, they were free to act naturally around each other again, which somehow turned into them being _even more_ tactile than they usually were. They practically lived in each other’s pockets back at school - they had even before they’d gotten together - but five days apart and an afternoon of forced secrecy meant they were practically ready to jump each other by the time they’d finished polishing off their shared molten lava cake.

It was still hours before midnight, though, and heading back to the house would be the opposite of sexy alone time, so that would have to wait.

They took their time wandering from the restaurant to the club, catching up on what they’d been up to the past few days and so, so much making out. 

By the time they actually made it to the club, it was late, and they were frozen. The festivities were already well underway at the club, though, so it only took a few moments in the crowded space for them to defrost. Justin held Adam’s hand tightly as he led him through the mess of people milling around. They found a slightly less crowded spot near a pillar, and Justin leaned in close to Adam to ask,

“I’m gonna brave a trip to the bar, you want anything?”

Adam turned his glance from scanning the room to narrow his eyes at Justin. “Rans, there’s more dongs here than at that sports bar just off campus during March Madness. Did you - is this a _gay_ bar?”

Justin chuckled. “Yeah. Figured, you know, since we’re - I dunno, I thought it might be fun.”

Adam scrubbed a hand across his face, unsure of what to say.

Suddenly Justin didn’t feel so confident in his choice of location anymore. “We can go somewhere else, if you prefer,” he offered.

“No, no, no. It’s not that. I just- I’m surprised? You’d think, you know, I’m a dude in a relationship with a dude, we’re in a room full of dudes, but you are literally the only one I want to knock boots with.”

“Okay, the part of me that has been hanging out with Shitty too long wants to go into the many facets of sexual orientation, but the other part of me that is _in a relationship with you_ wants to say ‘well that’s kind of the point, you numbskull.’”

“Wait, so only one part of you is in a relationship with me? Which part? Oooh, I hope it’s the lower part. Or, like, your head and your- ow!” Adam brought a hand up to clutch his stomach dramatically where Justin had just pinched him. From his antics, one might have thought he’d just been stabbed or something.

“I hate you.”

“Same, bro.”

“I’m going to go to the bar, I’m going to get myself a nice Crown Royal on the rocks and for you, the pinkest drink I can find.” Justin turned and retreated before Adam could reply, but Justin knew the guy well enough to know when he was flipping him off, even with his back turned to him.

It turned out, as Justin learned when he drew Adam in for a long, filthy kiss as the countdown to the new year ended, Cosmopolitans were actually quite tasty.


End file.
